by Karma Brown
My body quivered with the adrenaline, the pent-up tension from being on edge. “Please, Margot. I have to know what happened.”
She pushed her second half-eaten muffin away, fiddled with the wedding rings on her finger. Sighed deeply before speaking. “I said you had it backward, Lucy, because Daniel didn’t cheat on you. You cheated on him.”
I gasped, nearly fell off the stool as the shock moved through me.
I cheated on Daniel? I would never have done something like that. “You’re lying.” My words shook along with my body. Of course Margot was angry about what happened between Daniel and me, but this was taking things too far.
But she shook her head, and the look on her face told me this was the absolute truth. “What reason do I have to lie, Lucy? We used to be friends. I wouldn’t do that to you. Especially not now, with everything you’re dealing with.
“I appreciate how difficult this must be to hear, and I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you. But you’re the reason you and Daniel broke up.” She looked sad, whether for me to be hearing the truth this way or because of what I’d done to her husband I couldn’t be sure.
“Do you—” I gulped back the rest of the sentence, then tried again. “Do you know who it was, uh, with?”
“I don’t, and I don’t think Daniel did, either. Or at least he never mentioned a name. Just some guy.”
Just some guy. I had cheated on my fiancé with “some guy.” Who does that?
“Danny was devastated, though to be fair to you he wasn’t the easiest to be with. Especially back then. He was pretty unhappy with work, and his dad wouldn’t let up on him. It wasn’t the best time of his life.”
“He told you all this?” I was breathless, trying to catch up. Tried to accept I had known this all along—that it still lived inside my memory even if it couldn’t be recalled. I was also incredibly embarrassed for how I’d acted with Daniel, for confusing him with my kisses and affections. It amazed me he’d even spoken to me that first night, when we’d run into each other outside Jake’s party.
“When things started getting more serious with us, he told me what happened. And so you know, he did feel partly responsible. Like I said, he was a flirt. He drank too much. He wasn’t always kind with his words.” She gave an apologetic smile. “He’s put the work in, has come a long way. He’s a good husband, Lucy.”
I saw in her face then how much she loved Daniel. Had already forgiven him for what happened on Saturday, accepted his apology and explanation because they had both history and a future to focus on.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, welling up. “I...I had no idea. I don’t remember any of that.” My breath caught and this time I did press a hand to my chest. She reached out and held my arm gently.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Okay.” I nodded, still trembling a little with the aftereffects of shock.
“Do you love him? Like, love him again?”
I answered quickly so she wouldn’t read anything into my hesitation. “No. I don’t think I do.”
It was a lie, but it was the right thing to say.
“Good,” she said, letting go of my arm. She swiped a few crumbs off the counter with her napkin and then folded it onto her plate. “I hope you understand, and I wish things could be different, but we probably shouldn’t do this again.” She laid a hand on her belly and I understood how hard this must have been for her, asking me here tonight. Margot needed to move forward with Daniel as much as I needed to move farther away from him.
“Of course.” I stood on shaky legs, grateful to have the counter’s edge for support.
At the door I thought she might hug me, but instead she offered her hand. The formality felt strange, yet it was the right choice for the moment as we were essentially strangers now. At one time we had been friends, but that was a long time ago. I shook her outstretched hand, my palm clammy against hers. “Good luck, Lucy.”
“You, too, Margot.” And then she shut the door and I stood on her front porch, realizing I had better sit down for a minute before I passed out. So I was on the swing, leaning against the multitude of pillows and trying not to hyperventilate, when I felt another buzz in my pocket. With shaking hands I pulled out my phone. It was the message I’d been waiting for from Matt, and my heart sank with his three simple words.
I’ll be there.
44
I didn’t sleep all night after I got back to Alex’s from my visit with Margot. Didn’t even try, just sat in the one chair in her place and watched the sky transform from dark to dawn. I contemplated canceling on Matt. Almost did many times before it was seven in the morning and, by then, far too late.
Things had been so clear before Daniel’s message—or rather, before Margot lured me to her place under the guise of an invitation from Daniel. What might have happened if I’d ignored it? Texted back a curt and definitive I can’t. Please don’t ask me again. If I had done that, I’d be filled with excitement this morning versus exhaustion and dread, but I also would never have learned the truth. And it was significant, as hard as it had been to hear, that I had been the one to end my engagement. I had been the one to hurt Daniel when I changed our course, not the other way around.
By 7:15 a.m. I was sitting on the curb outside the capybara pen in the High Park Zoo, a take-out tray with two coffees (black for Matt, sugar and cream for me) and two egg and bacon sandwiches greasing up the paper bag beside me. The sun was finally out, and the park was quiet except for the odd early-morning jogger. I anxiously tapped my feet, my arms wrapped around my knees as I waited. It wasn’t warm this early in the morning quite yet, and so I blew into my bare hands to counteract their chilliness. I saw Matt then, riding his bike through the zoo’s path and heading toward me. I jumped to my feet, nearly upsetting the tray of coffees balanced on the curb’s edge, and waved, shouting his name, though it was unnecessary to do so—Matt and I were the only ones here.
He got off his bike a few feet from me, the grin on his face tightening the knots in my stomach. “Hey, Luce,” he said. “Fancy meeting you here.” Unclipping his helmet, he hung it on the handlebar of his bike, which he leaned against a nearby bench.
“Here. Breakfast,” I said, smiling as I handed him the coffee and one of the wrapped sandwiches. “Bacon and egg from the Grenadier. I’m having the same.”
He looked surprised. “You’re eating an egg?”
“Oh, right. I didn’t tell you. Turns out I don’t remember the whole food-poisoning thing.” I shrugged. “So I like eggs. Again.”
“No kidding,” he murmured, opening the sandwich and taking a bite. “Thanks. This is exactly what I needed.” But as he said it he gave me a look that told me he wasn’t talking about breakfast.
“I’m glad,” I said.
Matt set his coffee down so he could take off his messenger bag. “Listen, I’m not sure exactly why we’re here at the capybaras at seven in the morning, and I have no idea if I’m going to leave here glad I came or wishing I hadn’t.” He bent down to balance his partially eaten sandwich on the lid of his coffee cup, then stood again. “But can I say something first?”
I nodded, wrapped my arms around my body and did a few little jumps to warm up.
“Cold?” he asked.
“A bit,” I replied, and then there was a moment of silence as he watched me and I watched him, the couple of feet between us like a giant chasm. But then I felt it—the distinct magnetic pull between us, as strong as the one that had repelled me from Daniel’s lips under the Maddy’s awning. I took a step toward him, said, “What did you want to say?”
“Okay, first? I love you.” He closed the gap between us, held my chilled hands. I wasn’t prepared for him to open with this, for how intensely his words would pierce me, and my knees started to shake. “It’s both that simple and that complicated. Nothing has changed for me, but I know everything
is different for you.
“But while you don’t remember us, we do have history, Lucy. I know things about you no one else does. Like how you cry every single time an animal rescue meme hits your Facebook stream. Or that you wear your underwear inside out on days when you need a bit of good luck, because once you did it by accident and something great happened and so you decided it had to be the underwear thing.”
I smiled, pulled one hand out from his to wipe my tears. Oh, I don’t deserve you, Matt.
“I know when you’re sick you like to be left alone. ‘Throw a Gatorade in here, some ibuprofen, and then go—I’m disgusting and you don’t need to see disgusting,’ you said the last time you had a stomach bug. I remember you take your coffee with cream and sugar, that you prefer red over white wine, that you hate hockey but watch the games with me because you know how much I love it, that you have a surprisingly large collection of scarves for someone who doesn’t like wearing them because they make you claustrophobic. You love your work but sometimes wish you’d gone the creative route with your writing instead.”
The tears were hot against my cheeks and I didn’t bother to wipe them away. How could I possibly tell him what I needed to after this?
“I remember all these things, Luce, even if you don’t. So maybe right now we only have my memories to count on, but that’s okay.” He clutched my fingers tightly and pulled me closer, only inches apart now. His voice dropped to a near-whisper, but it didn’t lose any of its intensity. “I don’t care if you remember being married to Daniel. I honestly don’t care... I love you. And I believe you love me, too.” He laid one palm flat against my chest and pressed gently. “I know I’m still in here, Lucy. I know it.”
I wondered if he could feel how quickly my heart was beating. I took a deep breath. “I quit my job.”
He gave me a confused look, pulled back a little and shook his head. “What? When?”
“Yesterday. And I cheated on Daniel.”
Now a full step back. His hand dropped from my chest. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Matt, that Lucy you remember? The one who cried at dog rescue memes and wore her underwear inside out and hated eggs and said yes when you asked her to marry you?” I shook my head, pulled in a ragged breath. “You don’t know her the way you think you do. She cheated on her fiancé, apparently with some random guy. She is not the person you think she is.”
Matt’s jaw clenched and he took a deep breath through his nose. I wasn’t sure if he was going to cry, or yell at me. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you are kind and decent and the best boyfriend, and you deserve more than this shit show, Matt. You deserve better than me—both past and present.”
His mouth dropped open. “You brought me here to break up with me?” His face reddened and he scrubbed a hand through his hair. “What the hell, Lucy? Why did you even bother?”
I stepped right up to him and brought his hands to my chest again, held them tightly in my own. “No, when I sent that message, my plan was to propose we start over. Like, at the beginning. And not re-creating our first dates but to make new memories together. To see what might happen if we did.”
“Okay, yes! Let’s do that. That’s what I want, too.”
I shook my head. “But then I found out about what I’d done to Daniel, and I knew—” My breath caught and, oh, the way he looked at me. So full of hurt and anger I wanted to take it all back, to erase everything I said that made him look at me this way. “I knew it wasn’t fair to you. I have no idea if I’m ever going to remember us the way you do, and even if I do, I won’t be the same person I was before. The person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.
“I know you miss her,” I whispered. He wouldn’t look at me now. “I miss her, too, Matt. I wish she would come back. But there’s a good chance she’s gone for good. And you deserve better.”
“You keep saying that, but what if that’s not what I want?” Matt said, his voice gruff. “Why do you get to choose what I deserve, or don’t?” He looked depressed, and lost, having been forced into a holding pattern all this time. Matt hadn’t yet mourned the loss of our relationship, and even if we had found our way back somehow, it would never be the same as it had been.
“There’s nothing connecting us except for our past, Matt. And no matter how much I wish it weren’t true, only one of us remembers that.” I pressed his knuckles to my lips and held them there for a long moment, then let go, already walking backward, away from him.
“I’m sorry. For everything. Please don’t hate me,” I said, then turned my back to him and broke into a run.
45
It rained the day I became Mrs. Lucy Sparks Newman.
I had hoped for sunshine, a positive sign of what lay ahead. But the rain was better, I realized as we huddled under the wide, clear umbrella Matt held while we exchanged vows as planned. The minister stood dry under her own umbrella, its see-through surface speckled with the fat raindrops, while our guests gathered in rows under the Old Mill’s awning to watch the ceremony from afar. The rain was better than sun because it meant Matt and I didn’t have to share the moment with anyone—even the minister couldn’t hear the words we uttered, for the deep dome of our umbrella created a bubble just for us.
Matt made me sweet promises as he slipped the plain gold ring onto my finger, where it nestled against the diamond engagement band I’d started wearing nearly a year earlier. Then it was my turn, and I cried when I slid the matching band over his knuckle—blubbered actually, though later Matt would say I’d shed only one gorgeous tear when I’d said my vows. I laughed at that, teasingly said, “I thought we were done with making stuff up?” and he smiled. Told me if I got to have false memories, then it was only fair for him to have a couple, as well.
I love you, Lucy Sparks Newman, he’d said, after we shared our first kiss as husband and wife.
I love you more, Matt Newman. And no one would convince me otherwise.
Soon after, Matt was twirling me around a packed dance floor, full of our family and friends. I’d never felt so completely alive, or happy or certain about anything. To think of how close I came to missing out on all of it...
I had tried to walk, or rather run, away from Matt that day in High Park. To give him a chance to start over and make new memories with someone else, rather than be forced to try to puzzle back together a relationship that died the moment I hit my head. But I only got as far as the zoo’s entrance before he caught up to me, his legs much longer and faster than mine. Told me he didn’t care about what I’d done with Daniel, or who that Lucy was. He knew me and loved me and believed in us more than he’d believed in anything else. I have enough faith for the both of us, Luce, he had said. Do you trust me? I did. So I decided to follow Dr. Kay’s advice about choosing the future I wanted, even if it didn’t seem to fit with what was happening in my present. And so, with that, I chose Matt.
I never got all my memories back. I still don’t remember what happened the day I slipped and fell, and the gaping holes in the years preceding it remain, though I have since memorized critical details of that time. Can talk about them as though they are memories versus facts I’ve learned and, well, committed to memory. The reminiscence therapy Matt started, and Dr. Kay and I continued, did help me recover somewhat. But even with therapy I realized I wasn’t remembering the original experience—I was recollecting a construct of it. And, in fact, a construct of someone else’s construct, because like Dr. Kay explained during our first visit, no one’s memory was one hundred percent accurate. We all confabulate to some degree. And so I’ve accepted that my memories—all our memories, actually—are little more than fiction. The present is far more reliable than the past.
After resigning from Jameson Porter, I started my own communications business—Sparks + Co—doing freelance public relations work for anyone who would hire me. So far I was f
ounder, president and the only employee of my company, but I did have a virtual assistant for when projects started to stack up. And if things kept going as well as they were, I’d have the money to hire an associate in the next year. It was nice, starting over. None of my clients knew about the accident, or what I had lost because of it, and it was a relief not to worry about what I might have forgotten. I was all about the new memories now.
But while starting over was great, it hadn’t completely eliminated the anxiety about my memories. Especially the fragile ones I had only recently gotten back. I worried about going to bed one night and waking up with blank holes again. The pliancy of my memory only affording me so much stretch, like a vacuum cord that seemed to unwind longer than possible until the moment it snapped, ripping the plug out of the wall. The doctors assured me it was unlikely to happen now, losing more memories, unless I was to hit my head again. So I took precautions, just in case. I wore grippy-soled winter boots at the first sign of cold and kept a log of the best part of every day in a notebook in case anything were to happen my history would still exist in my own words.
Some days were harder than others, accepting what had transpired over the past year. But most days were better.
Interestingly enough I still had guilt when eating meat and had seriously flirted with vegetarianism a few times over the past couple of months. Jenny told me there’s an eighty-eight percent chance I’ll be vegan by Christmas, and she might be right even if I would desperately miss bacon. I still cannot recall my parents telling me the first time they’d split up, or that I had been ready to fire Brooke the week I had my accident, or how I cheated on Daniel with a random guy who ended having no place in my future but was quite important to ending ours. But none of it mattered anymore because of what I did remember.